Hope for Her?
by Peace Stonewall
Summary: This story is about first of all, Bellatrix is as young as Draco and Hermione. This is her story of how she turns evil or good . You'll be surprised how it ends. Enjoy my first ever story, don't worry this is not the end. More stories to come. Here goes.


_**Hope for Her?**_

It was an agreeable day. The Science test I had taken had blown over and I felt a surge of pride as I realized I hadn't done a half-bad job. Even the dreaded, but sometimes looked forward to, end of the school day had been admirable. The teachers had given out candy bar awards to each and every student. They called out names and, one by one, the kids stepped forward to acknowledge their prize. For example, one girl in the school got a candy bar that was called 100 grand because she was sure to make 100 thousand dollars one day. Everyone knew she could. Me? I got a Mr. Goodbar for I was a "good friend" to have. Sure I was smart, but I was quiet. Always in the corner with a book or thinking about some story I could write but never got around to it. There was this one kid in my class, Draco, who gave us nick names. Hermione was smarty number one, Jeanie was smarty number two, and I was smarty number three. I hated that name with a passion. I was a straight 'A' student, I mean what else could I do with my time? I was boiling inside at the outrageous label. Of course I would never tell anyone. It was so petty and I was embarrassed about my anger. I sighed, a very quiet sigh, so no one would notice.

"Careful, now," I cautioned myself. "You can't let them hear you. Especially…talking to yourself." I shuddered at this last bit, only slightly. I packed up my books and homework, still pondering over my own and everyone else's sanity. I woke with a start, out of my daydream. I must have put up my chair for I was standing in line waiting to start walking out the door. Sometimes I scared myself with all my absentmindedness. My brow buried into a thoughtful little frown.

Once on the bus I ate about half of my candy bar and chatted idly to my giddy friends. I was sure if they could see in my head they'd see a bemused expression at their talk of boys and summer. I hoped my eyes had a happy gleam to them. It wasn't that hard since I was perfectly blithe anyway. I loved school, but I wasn't so fond of talking to friends. I wasn't very social. Those seven minutes lasted exactly that. Seven minuets but they were uncomfortable all the same. The bus stopped at my house and I said a relieved goodbye and skipped up the lane of my house all smiling, happy to be alone at last. I got there but "there" was bad news. I should've gone trough the garage door instead.

"Mom, you can have the rest of my candy bar," I didn't really want it anyway.

"The inspector came today," She replied shoveling down the chocolate. I stared in dismay. "The health inspector. And Washer had just thrown up before she came! You keep that damn dog out of trouble! Do you hear me? I'm serious!" She yelled furiously at me.

I gaped, "Yes Mother," mumbled out of my mouth.

"I've had enough!" She used her favorite phrase. "Don't you have homework to do?" Her cold gaze bore into me and it made my blood run cold as it always did.

"Yes Mother," I gasped again. Reverently glad to be free of the probing eyes, I artfully backed away and high-tailed it to my room. Testily, I started my math. How come I could never stand up to her? I burned, my mood ruined. But, I knew why, because she was quite the actress with her guilt playing cards. I knew what she was going to do and I melted. I actually shivered with frustration. Then the vicious rage fled and I was filled with compassion as my thoughts turned to my friends. How I could never trust anyone of them with my thoughts. They would surely turn from me in fear. And, what's worse, I understood their fear. In a dream-like state, I fumbled with a math book. I liked math plenty well, even if I didn't understand some of it. I picked up the phone then, remembering I had promised Lennah with her math. How could she be smarty number two if she asked for my help?

"Calm down," I whispered ticking myself off. I hated when anyone told me to calm down. Even myself. I dialed.

"Hi. Is Jeanie there?" Polite was my tone.

"This is her," a clipped voice interrupted my thinking.

"Oh. Hi," my tone dropped the stiff formal feeling. "Did you need help?"

"No, I haven't started it yet. I just got back. Bye."

"What?"

"I have to eat!" She sounded so annoyed I totally missed my queue to say something. By the time, it was too late.

"Oh, well, by-"Before I finished a click cut off my hurt reply. Feeling dejected, I tackled my reading.

Three hours later, I was still wondering over the phone call. I had followed my ritual and had thoroughly cleaned my room and checked my homework. Another hour on the treadmill and it was time for supper. I snuck to the kitchen planning to grab a bagel.

I saw the yellow wrapper of the candy bar, my allotment, lying on the table looking sad and meek. I smoothed it out and set it award-side-up. My mother burst out-of-the-blue, as pissed off as ever. I shot out of her way as quick as I could. She glared at me as if to say, "I'm not a scary person. Don't even think of me like that. And don't you be saying that to other people!" Then she glanced at the empty candy wrapper that I had been trying to crease the crinkles out of. Just a short look, not long enough to see that it was a prize. She didn't read it at all. She smashed it into a crude ball and tossed it away without a thought. Pain clearly etched into my face I turned away from my mother. There was my award that I was oh-so-proud of, crumpled, at the bottom of a trash can.


End file.
